2010 was a long year for me...ups and downs and ups and downs...
In January, I moved to Paris as an exchange student while completing my MBA. Mom had been battling ovarian cancer for 4-5 years and this last round of chemo was especially difficult. I remember asking her over Christmas break if she didn't want me to go to France - not that Ithaca, New York was any closer to Los Angeles where she was - but she said no.
In early February, I got a call from my sister saying that Mom's surgery didn't go well. Day by day, Mom's condition got worse as her liver, kidneys and other major organs started to fail. I bought tickets home. Twenty hours of travel later sitting by her bedside, there really wasn't anything I could do. She was on a ventilator, completely unresponsive. I don't even know if she knew I was there. After a couple days, my sister convinced me to go back to France. There was a class coming up that was a requirement for graduation. Mom knew how much I wanted to get my MBA but it felt so wrong to leave her.
In mid-March, a couple days before finals, Mom passed away. I'll never forget that phone call. It was 1am. I was sitting in a taxi with a few friends heading home. My sister said, "We took Mom off the ventilator. You should say a few words to her. I'm going to put the phone up to her ear." Thank goodness Mom and I speak to each other in Chinese. I can't imagine if I had to share my last moments with my Mom with some random taxi driver and two other people I just met two months ago. I probably spoke for 10 or 15 seconds until the taxi pulled up to our destination. I told my sister to just hold on... I'd be home in 5 minutes. I ran to my apartment, up five flights of stairs, connected to Skype and called her back...but she was gone. Just like that.
The following days were the worst - Calls and emails to professors trying to figure out if I had to stay for finals or could get them waived. The French aren't exactly timely people, nor do they like to be disturbed on the weekend, etc. etc. Cornell, on the other hand, was extremely supportive. There was one last professor I simply couldn't get in touch with (imagine that) and Cornell said, "Just go. We'll figure it out. You're going to graduate one way or another." Nevermind the calls from family about funeral arrangements, what should we engrave on the urn, etc. etc. As it turns out, a roundtrip ticket from Paris to Los Angeles was cheaper than a one way ticket.
End of March/early April - We had our Mom's funeral and took her ashes to her final resting place, a beautiful Buddhist temple in the hills. The university in Paris has short semesters so technically, I was done with my MBA. I had a job lined up which started in September so there was no hurry to do, well, anything.
And I had that return ticket so....
End of April, back to Paris I went. I still had a lot of friends in town so there was no shortage of places to stay. Having scored a great job during MBA recruiting, I also had a nice hiring bonus for some travel money. I needed some time alone to process it all... My dream of getting my MBA and this great job came through but I also lost a mother that I never really got to know. I booked a one way ticket to Crete.
May was glorious. I backpacked around Greece - from Crete to Santorini, Naxos, Paros, Mykonos - then to Italy - the Tuscan coast (where my friend owns a winery), Venice, a weeklong quiet meditation retreat in Assisi, Cinque Terra - and on to southern France - Nice, Cannes, Monaco, Antibes - then back to Paris. I had a lot of time to think and reflect and digest it all.
By end of May, it was time to return to the US for graduation. It was so lovely seeing all of my classmates again. And it was time for another roadtrip, this time in the United States. I packed everything I owned into my mini SUV and took the next two months driving across the country (you can read about that adventure on my other blog Driving into the Sunset).
Somewhere along that journey across the United States, I met my now husband. I was over the moon.
By August 1st, I arrived back in San Francisco and was ready to start fresh. New apartment, new upcoming job, new amazing boyfriend. Everything was wonderful.
Two weeks later, everything changed. My sister was diagnosed with cancer at age 38. They caught it early and she elected for a bilateral mastectomy. Thankfully, no chemo or radiation was needed.
In September, my sister got her genetic results - she had the BRCA 2 mutation. At that time, I didn't know there was such a thing. I spent hours reading about the mutation, figuring out my odds....Luckily, I live in San Francisco and UCSF has a great breast care program. They were able to set up me up and get me tested right away.
Somewhere around then, I also started my new job. It was crazy all over again. Figuring out the politics and lifestyle of this new job, flying to client sites every week, juggling life with a new boyfriend in a new town and all the while trying to understand how a genetic mutation that I had no control over was about to take over my life.
In October, it was confirmed. I was also a carrier of the BRCA 2 mutation. And so was my other sister.
Man, it sucked.
I kind of wanted to talk about it but I kind of didn't. I didn't know what to say because I didn't know how I felt about it. My sister (not the one diagnosed with cancer) had two young children and knew what she wanted right away. In early 2011, off to Charleston she went and that was that (yes, Dr. Craigie, and Dr Kline!). I, on the other hand, didn't feel one way or the other. Surveillance sucked and the other choice, well, that sucked too.
In 2011, my very first MRI showed a 3mm blip of some sort. The radiologists suggested that it get biopsied just in case and that way, we can ensure that's the baseline. Ok - I buy that. I hate needles. Big ones, little ones, and now especially ones that scoop stuff out of you. I had to take 2 xanax just to get through it. I remember lying on that table, kind of cold, mostly out of it, hearing loud knocking noises and feeling something in my boob thinking - how the heck did I get here?
I did everything right - well, mostly right. That whole Tiger Mom thing...I had Tiger Dad. I remember in 8th grade, I burst through the door one day so excited, "Hey Dad! I got 93 on my math test! The next highest score was 85 and half the class flunked!" He looked up over his newspaper and replied, "Why didn't you get 100?" and went back to reading his paper. I went to a decent undergraduate university and got a decent job. Then I went to an excellent graduate school and got an excellent job. I was figuring life out and going where I needed to go. Laying on this table in this metal tube was not part of the plan.
Before I knew it, a couple years rolled by. Six months, MRI. Five days, breath of relief. Six months, mammogram. Five days, breath of relief. Repeat. I was getting good at this. The five day (or so) wait for results was getting less stressful each time.
Until 2 weeks ago. The 3mm dense breast tissue biopsied back in 2011 had suddenly grown to 1cm in size. I went back for an ultrasound but they couldn't see anything. The nurse practitioner assigned to my case sat down and answered all of my questions. Why did it grow? Is this considered big? Do we think it's still benign? Will this continue to happen to me? Somewhere in there, I lost it. Totally, utterly, lost it. I hated my last biopsy. It was stupid of me to not realize that at some point, I'd have to have another one, and another one, and another one, and... you get the point.
Maybe for some people it's obvious what they need to do or want to do when they find out they're BRCA+. It took me over 3 years but suddenly, it dawned on me. Even if I lived until 80 or 100 years old and I never got breast cancer, would I be happy having my own breasts and going through 50 odd years of getting my breasts smashed during mammos, IVs every year for that damn MRI, and big scooping needles every time there's something suspicious? The 'not knowing' is not so much a problem for me. It's the time and energy taken from me at least twice a year and being poked and prodded. Just take them already!
From a different perspective, if I were to get diagnosed with cancer somewhere down the line, I would be furious with myself. Why did I go through all that, for this?! I'm not a gambler. I don't even like gambling in Vegas (ok, maybe a slot or two.. but my limit is around $5!). If I were to manage my own investment portfolio, you'd think it was for someone in retirement. My personal beta, not so high. So why, why on earth, would I gamble with this?
Three years of knowing I'm BRCA2+ has also given me perspective about who cares to listen to me rant about this. I don't blame anyone. I have it and I barely understand how I feel about it. So I've joined a few online groups with another ladies in the similar or same situation and I've started this blog. The groups are great for support and for getting information, real firsthand information about the stuff I don't understand. And this blog - this blog helps me get out my frustration, my fears and organize all these crazy thoughts in my head.
Life's always a journey. But within that journey, there's a lot of roadtrips. I think I want my breasts removed. I'm 85% of the way there. Heck, I've already reached out to the top two breast reconstruction centers and they're checking my insurance. So it turns out, I'm packing...packing for my breast removal and reconstruction roadtrip, so to speak.
